Artists Solve Problems: When a Limitation Becomes the Starting Point

 

One of the things I want students to understand in my advanced art classes is that artists do not wait for perfect conditions. They work with what they have. They respond to mistakes, limitations, unfamiliar materials, unexpected changes, and questions without obvious answers.

That idea became the foundation of my Artists Solve Problems unit.

We begin by watching Phil Hansen’s TED Talk, Embrace the Shake. Hansen describes how a physical limitation changed the way he made art and eventually pushed him toward processes he might never have explored otherwise. From there, we look at artists who use repetition, unconventional materials, collaboration, illusion, and self-imposed rules to shape their work.

Students study artists such as Yayoi Kusama, Tara Donovan, Bisa Butler, Vik Muniz, and Tim Noble and Sue Webster. Each artist approaches a different kind of problem, but they all demonstrate that a limitation can become more than an obstacle. It can become the engine of the work.

Moving Beyond the Gimmick

The difficult part is helping students distinguish between a constraint that merely sounds unusual and one that poses a meaningful artistic problem.

“I will use one color” is technically a limitation, but it does not automatically lead to interesting work.

A stronger version might be:

I will work within a limited blue palette while still creating believable form, contrast, depth, and expression.

Now the student has decisions to make. How will value create dimension? How will subtle shifts in color affect the mood? How can the work remain visually engaging without a wide range of hues?

A limited palette became a problem of value, form, mood, and expression rather than simply a rule about color.

The same idea applies to materials. “I will use flowers” can easily become decorative. A more meaningful constraint asks the student to solve problems involving fragility, attachment, balance, permanence, and composition.

This student incorporated real foliage and flowers while working through problems of fragility, attachment, and composition.

Using Design Thinking

Students move through a version of the design thinking process:

Define → Research → Generate → Prototype → Implement → Reflect

They begin by defining an artistic problem and developing a constraint. Then they research artists, materials, and processes connected to their ideas. Instead of collecting facts simply to complete an assignment, they look for information that might help them avoid dead ends or make stronger decisions.

Next, students generate several possible directions and create a prototype. The prototype is not meant to be a miniature final artwork. It is a test.

A student might ask:

• Will this material create enough value range?
• Can repeated marks produce recognizable forms?
• How much control can I give up before the composition feels disconnected?
• Will this process work better at a larger scale?
• How can I document an artwork made from temporary materials?

Once students have learned something useful from the prototype, they begin the final piece.

Different Problems, Different Solutions

Because this is a TAB-inspired, choice-based unit, the final artworks do not look alike. Students may work with completely different subjects, materials, and processes while still responding to the same larger idea: artists solve problems.

One student, who was taking a psychology class at the time, became interested in the phrase “color inside the lines” and how it can serve as a broader metaphor for conformity, behavior, and expectations. She gave herself the constraint of deliberately coloring outside and across established boundaries. Rather than treating those lines as rules to follow, she used them as something to interrupt, cross, and challenge.

This student used the familiar instruction to “color inside the lines” as a metaphor, deliberately working across boundaries to explore conformity, freedom, and expectation.

Another student created a landscape using repeated dots and small marks. The limitation required patience and consistency, but it also created texture, rhythm, and movement across the surface.

Repeated dots and small marks were used to create form, texture, and movement.

Jesus chose to work only with office supplies. He used highlighters for color and applied black ink with rubber bands, transforming familiar classroom materials into tools for energetic mark-making.

Jesus used only office supplies, including highlighters and rubber bands, to create contrast, movement, and layered imagery.

Another student explored personal identity through geography. Born in Ethiopia and adopted and raised in the United States, she used map imagery, travel lines, and symbolic objects to connect two places that are both part of her story.

Map imagery, routes, and symbols communicate a personal connection between Ethiopia and the United States.

Letting Go of Control

Some of the strongest possibilities in this unit come from asking students to relinquish part of their control.

A student might:

• allow another person to contribute marks during the process
• begin with a kindergarten drawing
• use footprints or tread marks as the first layer
• let chance determine part of the color scheme or composition
• respond to accidental spills, stains, folds, or impressions

Giving up control does not mean giving up responsibility for the artwork. The student still has to decide what to preserve, what to emphasize, how to create unity, and how to guide the final result.

That tension between intention and unpredictability can lead to much richer decisions than in a project where every step is known from the beginning.

What I Want Students to Take Away

The final artwork matters, but the larger goal is for students to become more comfortable with uncertainty.

I want them to understand that an idea can change. A prototype can fail and still be useful. An unexpected mark can become part of the solution. Research can open a new direction. Revision is not evidence that the first plan was bad; it is evidence that the artist is paying attention.

By the end of the unit, students submit a final photograph, reflect on how their work developed, and participate in a critique focused on the strength of the constraint, evidence of problem-solving, material choices, composition, and revision.

The works are not all equally resolved, and that is part of teaching an open-ended project. Some students push their limitations farther than others. Some discover the most interesting part of their idea too late. Some need another round of experimentation. Those outcomes help me see where the unit can improve, too.

The project continues to evolve, but the central idea remains one I want students to carry with them:

Artists do not simply make things. They notice problems, test possibilities, respond to what happens, and keep working.

I have now organized the full unit into a resource for other high school art teachers. It includes the introductory presentation, lesson plan, brainstorming and planning materials, research and idea-generation worksheet, prototype assignment, reflection, critique handout, and rubrics.

Artists Solve Problems: High School Art Unit

A Fresh Look for My Art Website

Over the past few days, I've been giving my website a much-needed makeover.

What began as a practical project - updating images, removing old PayPal buttons, and making the site easier to navigate - became an opportunity to look back through years of artwork. 

The redesigned site now has a few clearer paths:

• Available Art includes original paintings, mixed-media works, and small studies that are currently for sale.
• Fine Art Prints includes the prints I presently have in stock.
• Portfolio gathers selected work by subject, including still lifes, portraits, landscapes, flowers, creatures, and abstracts.

As I worked through the images, I found myself returning to a few personal favorites.

First in Flight

Rolls Royce

Holding Formation

Sleeping In

If you’d like to take a look, you can:

• Shop Available Art
• Browse Fine Art Prints
• Explore the Portfolio

And if you see an older work in the portfolio that you would like as a print, you’re welcome to email me. Not every possible print is kept in stock, but I’m happy to discuss what may be available.

Thank you for visiting!

Days 10 / 11: The Long Way Home

Day 10 was really two days of travel. On Friday, July 3, we checked out of our hotel in Zimbabwe and headed to the airport. After more than a week of moving through South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe, it felt strange to be packing our bags for the final time. We would not arrive back at RDU until Saturday at noon, 33 hours later. 

Our first flight was on Airlink from Victoria Falls to Johannesburg. Once we arrived, we had a nine-hour layover before our United flight to Newark. We went through customs, collected our checked bags, and then realized it was still too early to re-check them. For a while, our whole group settled into an open corner of the airport with our luggage, backpacks, snacks, and nowhere else to be just yet.

After some searching, we found an area big enough for our whole group and all of our bags. That spot became the setting for our final reflection. It was not exactly a conference room, but by that point, we were used to making things work wherever we were. We sat on the floor, surrounded by suitcases, and began trying to process what we had just experienced.

There was something fitting about having our last reflection in between places. We were no longer fully in the trip, but we were not home yet either. We were tired, a little scattered, and still carrying more than we could probably explain in one conversation.

Eventually, we were able to check our bags and board our fifteen-hour flight to Newark. Once we landed in Newark, the goodbyes began. Our group split in different directions: some headed to RDU, some to Charlotte, and Rachel continued on to Seattle. 

After the fifteen-hour flight to Newark, the final flight to Raleigh felt easy. We arrived at RDU around noon on Saturday, July 4, and said our last round of goodbyes at baggage claim. Then everyone started disappearing into cars, Ubers, and family hugs. Slowly, photos began appearing in our group chat of people reuniting with spouses, children, pets, and the familiar pieces of home.

When I got home, I added pins to our family map in the living room. I placed two in South Africa for Johannesburg and Pretoria, then added pins for Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Namibia, even if Namibia only counted for about five minutes during our safari.

It was a quiet way to close the loop. After all the airports, classrooms, border crossings, bus rides, wildlife sightings, conversations, and questions, the program had become part of the map at home.

Day 10 did not have the dramatic scenery of Victoria Falls or the energy of a school visit, but it had its own kind of importance. It was the day we began carrying the experience back with us. Not just in our luggage or photos, but in the stories we would tell, the lessons we would build, and the ways the program would keep showing up long after we were home.

#itsaprogram

Day 9: Elephants, Border Crossings, and One Last Rainbow

Day 9, July 2, was our last full day in Africa. We woke up in Livingstone, had breakfast, and made our way to The Elephant Café, an elephant sanctuary experience along the Zambezi River.

The Elephant Café is connected to a herd of rescued African elephants, each with its own story. The herd is unusual because it includes older bulls, females, younger elephants, and calves living together, which is not the typical structure of an elephant herd in the wild. Guests can meet the elephants through a guided, reward-based interaction while learning more about their behavior, histories, and relationships within the herd.

One of my favorite moments was watching an elephant pick food up from the ground, shake the dirt off with its trunk, and then put it into its mouth. It was a small action, but it showed precision and intelligence.

Baboons moved through the background while we were there, including a mother with her baby near the river. After seeing them so often in Livingstone, their presence felt like part of the landscape rather than a surprise.

After leaving The Elephant Café, we returned to our hotel in Livingstone, checked out, and began the transfer from Zambia into Zimbabwe. Along the way, we even spotted a zebra from the bus, one more small wildlife surprise tucked into the day.

At the border, we stamped out of Zambia, drove through the stretch of “no man’s land,” and crossed the same bridge we had photographed from below during the Boiling Pot hike. This time, instead of looking up at it from the river, we were driving across it into Zimbabwe. We stamped into Zimbabwe and continued on to Victoria Falls, where we checked into our new hotel.

The hotel was beautiful, and once we were settled, the pace of the day shifted. Most of our required program activities were finished, so lunch felt like the beginning of a slower final stretch. I celebrated with a piña colada, which felt very appropriate after days of packed schedules, border crossings, school visits, hikes, and early mornings.

After lunch, the rest of the day was open, so Jamesia, Lisa, and I decided to see Victoria Falls from the Zimbabwe side. After visiting the falls from Zambia, hiking down to the Boiling Pot, and seeing the lunar rainbow, I wondered how different it would feel from this side. It was absolutely worth going back.

The Zimbabwe side gave us wide views of the falls, the gorge, the bridge, and rainbows stretching through the mist. In some areas, the spray was so heavy that we needed ponchos, and even then, we were still getting soaked. 

I loved seeing the bridge again from a new angle. Earlier in the trip, we had photographed it from below during the Boiling Pot hike, then crossed it by bus when we entered Zimbabwe. Now we were looking back at it from the trail, with the falls and gorge around us. That bridge became a fun little thread connecting several parts of our time in Livingstone and Victoria Falls.

Walking the path, we stopped at all the viewpoints, taking pictures, laughing in our ponchos, and trying to capture something much bigger than a photo can hold. 

We moved quickly through the falls, hoping we might still have time to visit Elephant Walk Shopping before our 5:15 dinner reservation at The Lookout Café. We did not end up having enough time, so we called Bambino, who had driven us from the hotel to the falls earlier that afternoon. He picked us up again, wearing his leopard print vest and crown, which made the ride feel like its own little event.

The Lookout Café was a beautiful place to spend our last evening. The view from our table looked out over the gorge, with the bridge in the distance and the light beginning to soften. Before we even made it inside, we were greeted by a group of warthogs grazing in the grass out front. To reach the grass, they had to kneel on their front legs, which made me laugh. 

At dinner, Lisa and I ordered “double rainbow” drinks, which felt fitting after a day of elephants, border crossings, Victoria Falls, mist, rainbows, and one last evening in Zimbabwe.

After dinner, Jesse, Graham, and I went to a local brewery. After so many planned activities and group experiences, it was nice to end the night with a slower conversation in a place that felt more local. I tried a Zambezi beer, which seemed like an appropriate final drink after enjoying some memorable adventures near the river that shared its name.

It was a full-circle kind of day without trying too hard to be one. We started with elephants near the Zambezi, crossed into Zimbabwe over the bridge we had seen from below, returned to Victoria Falls for one more look, and ended the night with a beer named for the river.

Day 8: Ebenezer, Sinde Village, and a Circle of Gratitude

Day 8 (July 1) began in Livingstone, where our group split up again to visit different schools and community spaces. My group started at Ebenezer Orphanage / Ebenezer School, where we spent the morning with younger learners.

Before beginning our activity, we peeked into a few classrooms. One space in particular stood out to me because two classrooms were connected, with an open area between them. The students were engaged and participating, which I loved seeing, but the sound carried so much between the rooms that it was hard to imagine trying to teach and learn in that environment every day.

From there, we went to the reading center, where students were being introduced to a new story. Each of us was paired with two learners, and I worked with two boys on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I began by reading the story aloud and asking them what they thought might happen based on the pictures. Then they took turns reading the story out loud, alternating pages. After reading, they illustrated the story and wrote a short summary.

After the reading center, we went to the kitchen to help stir and serve nshima to the students. The students lined up to receive their portions, clapping and curtsying as they were served. A couple of preschoolers kept running back and forth from their classroom to give hugs, which was another of those small, sweet moments that I will cherish.

Usually, the students wash their own bowls, but our group took over that job for the day. It quickly became clear how busy that task was. There were not enough bowls for every student to have one at the same time, so as soon as one student finished, the bowl had to be washed quickly so it could be used by the next person in line.

After helping in the kitchen, we were asked to make new anchor charts for the school. I was assigned to create a poster comparing wild animals and domestic animals. As I worked, one of the workers watched over my shoulder, fascinated by the drawing process. He asked how I could draw so quickly and confidently. I told him the honest answer: practice.

He wanted to know what he should do if he practiced drawing for 40 minutes every day and how long it would take him to improve. I explained blind contour drawing and told him that I thought it was one of the best exercises for building observational drawing skills. I also told him that a full year of practicing 40 minutes a day would lead to exceptional growth. I appreciated that conversation because it gave me a chance to talk about drawing not as talent alone, but as a skill that grows through observation and steady practice.

Later in the morning, we traveled to what I believe was another Ebenezer School location, possibly for older learners. The classroom setting felt different from the younger students’ space earlier in the day, but the students were just as welcoming.

After our school visits, we returned to the hotel for lunch, where I tried crocodile skewers. I was not sure what to expect, but I really enjoyed them - one more opportunity to try something new while we were in Livingstone.

After lunch, we drove out to visit Sinde Village through the Children in the Wilderness program. Sinde Village is connected to Wilderness Safaris’ Toka Leya Camp and is made up of four smaller villages: Katiba, Lypwaya, Siatela, and Mulauli. Through Children in the Wilderness, students from the local Twabuka Primary School participate in an Eco-Club led by trained Eco-Mentors.

When we arrived, we were taught how to “knock” before entering the home of Senior Chief Musokotwane of the Leya and Tonga people. Instead of walking directly into the compound, we clapped our hands and called, “Odi, Odi,” a respectful way of asking permission to enter. Once we were welcomed in, we sat on mats, benches, and chairs while our hosts shared information about the village and their cultural practices.

One demonstration showed how women can walk long distances while balancing heavy water buckets on their heads, keeping their hands free to carry other items or care for a child. We were able to ask questions while the chief sat nearby observing.

Afterward, we watched the chief play a game in the dirt with his granddaughter. It looked similar to Mancala, but with more rows and a different rhythm to the play. It was one of my favorite moments of the visit because it felt relaxed and personal, a small glimpse of daily life they were willing to share with strangers.

After spending time at the chief’s home, we were invited to walk down the road to visit one of the family compounds in the village. Several children walked along with us, holding hands and staying close as we moved through the sandy paths. We were shown one of the homes, built with mud walls and a thatched roof, and were told that these structures can last around ten years.

Nearby, another house was being built, and we could see the wooden posts already set into the ground for the frame. Outside, chickens moved through the compound, laundry hung along the fence line, and we saw an outdoor latrine with a curtain for privacy. The visit gave us a closer look at the materials, routines, and practical design choices that shape homes there.

As we left, I kept noticing the chief’s presence. He seemed relaxed and approachable, but still carried a quiet authority. From the bus, I watched him talking with our driver and guide, and then he and his granddaughter waved as we pulled away. It felt like a fitting end to the visit. We had been welcomed in, invited to listen and ask questions, and sent off with a wave.

On our way out, we passed a group of boys walking together in a procession. Our driver shared that they were taking part in a coming-of-age tradition - just another reminder that we were only seeing small pieces of much larger cultural practices.

That night, our group reflection brought the day to an emotional close. Sabrina led us in an activity where we stood in a circle with our eyes closed while small groups stepped into the center. They were given prompts like “touch someone you have learned from” or “touch someone you now consider a friend.” It was quiet, simple, and unexpectedly powerful.

After more than a week of traveling, learning, and processing together, the gentle taps on our shoulders became a kind of wordless thank-you. The places we visited mattered deeply, but so did the relationships forming between the people traveling, learning, and processing together.